


lock, load, kiss

by leonshardt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonshardt/pseuds/leonshardt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where Jack finally gets fed up with Gabriel tossing his guns everywhere.</p><p>Or: Gabriel gets a new gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lock, load, kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to take a break from my irregularly scheduled angst and try my hand at some humor.
> 
> Also shoutout to Felix for being the actual worst beta in history.

It starts something like this.

“It’s a matter of efficiency!” Gabriel argues, planting his hands on Jack’s desk.

“It is _not_ \-- oh for the love of-- where are you pulling all these shotguns from anyway?” Jack demands, looking more and more frazzled by the second. Jack has a habit of running his hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, and by now tufts of his hair are starting to stick up at odd angles.

Gabriel shrugs. “I make McCree carry them, sometimes.”

Jack drags a hand down his face. He looks more disappointed than he has any right to be. “Oh, of course you would.”

“Have you seen my mission success rates, Jack?” Gabe says. “They’re impeccable. Practically flawless. Clearly I’m doing _something_ right.”

“That’s not the point!” Jack shouts. “I have an invoice for all the Overwatch weaponry you lost, and Torbjörn was nearly in tears the other day because you keep demolishing his armory--”

“--And that’s terrible,” Gabriel says solemnly. “How will we ever console the poor man?”

“I already did,” Jack says, his expression suddenly serious. “By informing him that you’re banned from accessing his weapons store until I say so.”

Gabriel stares at him. “You didn’t.”

“Gabe,” Jack says, leaning over his desk. “I totally did.” And there’s that wrinkling at the corners of his eyes that Gabriel knows means he’s trying his hardest not to smile, and in any case he’s failing at it because Gabriel knows all his tells like the back of his hand, and it’s all so _infuriating_. “Torbjörn’s overjoyed, by the way,” Jack adds.

“I need-- Blackwatch needs those guns,” Gabriel says, a little desperately. “I have missions!”

“Luckily, I already considered that. Here, take mine,” Jack says, and after a moment he hefts his own heavy pulse rifle into Gabriel’s arms, who holds it as if it’s an alien object. “I want you to use it properly, alright? They didn’t teach us how to reload these things in training just for you to throw them around like trash.” Gabe just looks at him, at a loss for words, and Jack adds, “And make sure nothing happens to my baby! I just had her cleaned.”

“I hate you so much,” Gabriel tells him.

“You’re just mad that I love my rifle more than you,” Jack says.

Gabriel doesn’t even dignify that with an answer.

 

 

 

Gabriel isn’t accustomed to the pulse rifle’s knockback; the first time he fires the helix rockets in actual combat, the blast radius almost takes McCree’s head off. McCree goes flying from the concussive force, landing in the dirt with a thud before rolling to a stop behind some barrels.

“Whoa there, partner!” McCree shouts, looking a little singed around the edges but overall no worse for the wear. Gabriel is too busy returning fire to respond immediately. The situation isn’t looking good; they’re cornered from all angles. Bullets ricochet behind him, tearing up the wooden railing to his left. It was only a matter of time before they got to him.

“Cover me!” Gabriel yells at McCree, as he fumbles with the reload. They have one chance, but he has to time it when the helix rockets are charged back up.

“So the boys back at base were sayin’ you and Morrison were havin’ some sorta conflict, and that’s why he took away your shotguns,” McCree says conversationally as he lays down fire. “There any truth to that, sir?”

“You’re fired, McCree,” Gabriel says curtly. There-- the helix rockets are back online. He whips around. “On my command.”

“Just askin’,” McCree says, with a shrug.

“Now!” Gabriel yells, and fires.

  

 

 

“See, I knew that the rockets would come in handy. They’re great for crowd control,” Jack says, when they’re back in base. He’s grinning a little too broadly for Gabriel’s comfort.

“Yes, fine, _in that one particular situation_ ,” Gabriel snaps, “Which I wouldn’t have been in if I had my full arsenal in the first place.”

“He also fired me, did you hear about all that?” McCree says, from the other side of the side of the room.

“You’re unfired,” Jack tells McCree.

“Jack,” Gabriel says, “I need my guns back.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you tonight,” Jack says, winking at Gabriel, and he feels his face flush.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Morrison,” Gabriel growls, crossing his arms. McCree mumbles an excuse and awkwardly shuffles out the door.

“In all seriousness, I’m glad you’re alright,” Jack says quietly, after the door closes. He reaches up, cupping Gabriel’s cheek with one warm hand. “It always makes me nervous when I’m not there to watch your back.” His breath ghosts over Gabriel’s lips, eyelashes feather-light against his cheekbones. Gabriel swallows, his heartbeat loud in his ears, as Jack closes his eyes and leans forward the last few inches. Before Gabriel knows what he’s doing, he snaps his own arm up and wedges his hand in front of his face so that Jack’s nose smacks straight into his palm.

“Mmnph,” Jack says, into Gabriel’s hand.

“On second thought, no kissing until you give me my guns back,” Gabriel says.

Jack extricates himself. “That’s low, even for you. Besides, we can still have sex without the kissing part, you know,” he points out.

“Wow,” Gabriel says. “You truly are a tactical genius.”

“There are several flaws in your plan,” Jack says. “Namely, that it isn’t going to work, and also, you aren’t as irresistible as you think.”

“Oh, really?” Gabriel says.

“Really,” Jack says.

 

 

  

Dr. Angela Ziegler picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello Gabriel!” she says, “I trust you are doing well?” In the background, Gabriel can hear beeping of medical machines and faint mechanical whirring.

“Angela,” he says seriously, “I am in dire need of your medical expertise. Actually, I just need you to kill Jack Morrison for me. Could you do me a favor and accidentally botch his next check-up or something?”

“Oh, nonsense,” she says, “I’m sure you two can sort out whatever lover’s spat you’re having without me.”

“We’re not-- don’t call it-- “ Gabriel sputters.

“Oh-- I am afraid I am needed in the operating room now,” Dr. Ziegler says. “Goodbye Gabriel! It was wonderful talking to you.”

“Angela wait—“ he starts, but there’s only a click as she hangs up. Gabriel buries his head into his arms and screams, the sound muffled by his sleeves.

McCree pokes his head into the room. “Everything alright, boss?” he asks.

Gabriel hurls the pulse rifle at his head, which McCree easily sidesteps. It hits the floor with a _clunk_.

“Careful there, Commander Morrison will have a fit if you break his equipment,” McCree drawls.

“How about I break you instead?” Gabriel snarls, and McCree scampers away.

 

 

 

They get stuck in traffic on the way back to the hotel after a UN meeting.

“It’s just so-- so _stuffy_ ,” Tracer complains from the backseat, pulling at the collar of her dress blues, “And hot. Why do we have to wear these? Why do the _omnics_ have to wear these! They don’t even need clothes!”

“Well you see,” Gabriel says, “Underneath all that fabric they’re actually hiding their massive metal d—“

“ _Gabe,_ ” Jack says, from the driver’s seat. He frowns then, tapping on the earpiece of his visor. Tracer starts rolling down the car windows one by one, sticking her head out in hopes of catching a breeze.

“You know, that defeats the purpose of having bulletproof windows—“ Gabriel starts to say, but he’s cut off by a loud cracking noise that sounds frightfully close by. He and Tracer both jump in their seats. Ana Amari’s voice filters through Jack’s earpiece.

“—I’m counting two suspects in my sightline, both by the west ramp—Winston’s working on evacuating the civilians—so far we have everything under control but—“

“Shit,” Jack says. Of course Talon would time an attack after the conference, when all the high profile politicians and omnics were leaving in their vehicles; nearly all the on-site security would be centered on the building itself, leaving the roads and highways wide open for terrorist attacks.

There’s a whoop and a streak of blue light and Tracer’s already out the door, dashing toward the sound.

Jack whips around to face Gabriel. “The pulse rifle,” he says urgently, “are you armed, Reyes?”

Gabriel digs the rifle out from under the seat, holding it in what’s become a worryingly familiar stance. “Yeah I-- oh, _fuck_ , it’s not loaded--”

“What do you _mean_ it’s not--“

“They don’t allow loaded firearms in UN conferences, Jack!” Gabriel shouts.

Jack makes a motion like he’s going to bury his face in his hands, when Gabriel sees a movement out of the corner of his eye, as if in slow motion. The car directly to the right of them is rolling down one tinted window, and the barrel of a gun pokes out, aiming right at Jack—

With a roar, Gabriel tackles Jack, smashing him into the reinforced car door, as gunfire peppers the ceiling above them. Shit, shit. Tracer left the windows open, leaving them completely exposed. Amari’s count was wrong, too; they’re dealing with attackers on the east ramp as well.

There’s frantic honking all across the highway, and screams as civilians flee the area in a panic. Gabriel flattens himself against the door, pushing Jack beneath him in the process. Jack makes a sound like _nnrgh_ somewhere around his abdomen, which Gabriel ignores. The second the gunfire stops and the attacker pauses to reload, Gabriel is up in an instant.

“Reyes-- no--“ Jack wheezes, but it’s too late. Gabriel grabs the pulse rifle and flings it at the attacker in a full body throw. It connects solidly with his head, and the terrorist goes down like a sack of bricks, dropping somewhere on the car floor. In the next second, there’s a static roar and a flash of blue light as the helix rockets accidentally discharge; with nowhere to go, they backfire, blackening the car’s hull with the concussive force of the rockets. Gabriel raises his arms to shield himself from the blast.

“Oh,” Gabriel says after a moment, as smoke pours out of the car’s remains.

“Wh-- you said it wasn’t loaded,” Jacks says, struggling to sit up.

“Whoops,” Gabriel says.

“My gun,” Jack says, looking distraught, “My poor baby.”

Gabriel opens his mouth to say something, but then he becomes embarrassingly aware that he’s basically straddling Jack now, his thighs sandwiched between Gabriel’s knees. Jack is breathing hard, his hair mussed from all the action.

“If you want, you could borrow mine,” Gabriel says with a smirk.

“I think,” Jack says, “that I put too much faith in you.”

The plane of his face tilts up into Gabriel’s, and Jack rests one calloused hand against the back of his neck as he leans in, and then they’re kissing, hot and giddy and stupid, in the middle of an abandoned highway. Gabriel groans into his mouth, pressing forward, feeling Jack’s heartbeat thud beneath his palms.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t kiss me until I gave back your guns,” Jack gasps, and Gabriel laughs against his jaw.

“I’d call us even,” he murmurs, “And besides, you also said you’d make it up to me.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with an eyebrow waggle.

“Well, I’d say we’ve got a few minutes before Tracer comes back,” Jack manages.

“I like the way you think,” Gabriel says, and they’re kissing again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at my tumblr [over here](http://leonshardt.tumblr.com).


End file.
